Epilogue
“You about ready to go?” August asked, sneaking up behind her to place a kiss on the nape of her neck.
“Is that supposed to be a joke? How can you even ask that?” Melissa sighed, looking out toward the clear water of Des Plaines River. “How do come out here and then return to your life back in the city, pretending to be something you’re not?”
A crease appeared in his brow and he shook his head.
“I don’t pretend to be something I’m not,” he disagreed. “I’m the same being I always was.”
Melissa tipped her head to the side and studied his face pensively.
“You know what I mean,” she insisted. “You’re like a superhero. Bear shifter by night, low-paid detective by day. I mean, how can you leave this house and return to your crappy apartment?”
“Hey!” he growled jokingly. “I thought you liked my apartment!”
“Not as much as I like this estate!” she protested, laughing nervously. “I don’t mean any disrespect.”
“I know, and I know what you’re asking, but you have to think of it like this—we’re two different people at the core. Who we are in the sleuth and who we are among the mortals.”
“And what about me?” Melissa asked quietly. “How do I fit in?”
“Liss, you fit in everywhere,” he told her, gently wrapping his arms around her waist. “You’re a part of me in every aspect, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know,” she confessed, sighing. “God, you must think I’m an endless whiner but I can’t seem to get the hang of any of it. If anything, I’m more lost than before.”
She looked up in embarrassment.
“Oh… I sound like such an ungrateful—”
“You sound like someone who’s had your entire world view spun upside down,” he interjected, brushing the short strands of blonde out of her face. “It’s only been a couple months, Liss. A new, dangerous job, learning about your father, your background. It’s a lot to process, especially…”
He trailed off, knowing that it was a sore subject.
“Especially since I haven’t learned how to shift yet,” she finished.
“You’ll get there and when you do, everything will come together. In the meantime…”
He kissed her again, this time on the bridge of her nose.
“You’re not lost. You have an anchor in me. I am with you every step of the way.”
“I know,” she agreed quickly. “And I am so thankful for that. For everything you’ve done. I still have no idea how you managed to smooth things over with the Sarge.”
“Well, you technically didn’t put in your resignation and I used his own words to my advantage.”
“What words were those?”
August laughed. “I can’t remember verbatim but it was something to the effect of, ‘Rookies always get cold feet.’ Anyway, it worked out for us, didn’t it?”
Melissa smiled warmly at him. “How did I ever get by before you?” she asked honestly and he snickered.
“I don’t even want to know.”
“I don’t deserve you, August.”
“Yes,” he replied. “You do.”
They shared another kiss and he reluctantly pulled away.
“Now, go get your stuff. I’ve got to make a couple phone calls before we go but the car’s unlocked.”
“Fine,” she sighed miserably. “Ruin my buzz.”
“I had no idea you’d been drinking.”
“It’s not a buzz from alcohol. It’s a buzz from living like the other half.”
August chuckled and they headed up the pier toward the sprawling manor house which had been August’s home for over two centuries.
They parted ways at the French doors, Melissa heading up to their suite while August ducked into the study.
He closed the door behind him and moved toward his desk to pick up a burner phone inside the top drawer.
You there? the only text read and he exhaled, noting the time was less than half an hour earlier.
Yeah. What did you find?
He waited edgily, drumming his fingers on the desk. One minute later, another text came in.
I sent you an email.
He opened the laptop and signed in without responding, quickly locating his emails.
Instantly, he saw what it was he was looking for.
The “for your eyes only” encryption told him everything he needed to know and August felt a whoosh of air escape his lungs.
Did you get it?
He picked the burner back up again and messaged back.
I did. Thanks.
I don’t like doing this, August.
I know. But it’s for her benefit.
Still…
I won’t bother you again for a while.
All right.
He stared at the phone, waiting for another message, but one didn’t come.
He grunted and typed out a parting response.
Thank you, Cara.
Flipping off the phone, he turned his eyes back toward the screen and read the information Cara had found on Paul Stark.
Oh shit, August thought, gritting his teeth. This is not good.
“Babe? You ready?” Melissa popped her head inside the office and he nodded, rising to close the computer as he did.
“Let’s get back to reality,” he said brightly, linking his arm through hers, but his mind was whirling with what he had just learned.
Not only was Paul Stark Melissa’s father, he was the leader of one of the most powerful sleuths on the west coast.
And if he comes this way again, it will mean certain war.
Fallon’s Mate (Preview)
Shifters Forsaken
By: Mia Taylor
Chapter One
A Helping Hand
Shivers spilled down her spine as the rain trickled beneath the collar of her thin jacket. It wasn’t a cold day (she had certainly seen colder in her time on the streets) but the sprinkling of water from the heavens chilled her skin just enough to cause goosebumps to dance over her arms. She ran for cover under an awning of a coffee shop, knowing that it would give her little reprieve from the weather but it was a temporary fix.
Just like everything in my life—a temporary fix.
Long, matted strands of hair plastered against her face and she reached a dirty hand through the mass to clear her vision, her chocolate eyes darting about as if she expected someone to venture from the storefront and chase her away.
It had happened before, after all. She did not expect that it would be long before someone either called the police or tried to bully her away from the windows. She wasn’t good for business in her hole-littered clothes and tangled hair. No one wanted to snack on a scone while thinking about the too-skinny homeless woman on the other side of the glass.
She peered through her reflection, hoping that maybe the acne-faced barista was working. Sometimes he took pity on her and brought her a coffee and bagel but only if his manager wasn’t looking. On the other hand, if he wasn’t and the shrill blonde was behind the counter…
Her cheeks flushed with humiliation as she remembered the last encounter she’d had with the woman. It shocked her that people could treat one another so inhumanely.
We all live on the same planet, the brunette thought mournfully. How can we be so cruel to one another?
“Fallon?”
She whirled at the sound of her name, leaning away from the woman as if she was a feral cat and the exquisitely dressed woman was doing her harm merely by uttering a single word. But what a word to say! How long had it been since she’d heard someone call her by her real name?
“Fallon Rusholm! I can’t believe it!”
Her mouth parted slightly as she tried to place the tall redhead with sparkling emerald eyes.
Where have I seen her before?
“It’s me—Beatrice Wexley. From Pierpont High. Go Stingrays, right?”
Fallon still could not find words, possibly because they were lodged in the depth of her throat or maybe because she couldn’t understand how Bea Wexley was standing on a sodden sidewalk in downtown Ashbridge, striking up a conversation with someone that anyone could plainly see was homeless. They had nothing in common, not anymore. It was hard to reconcile they had ever shared a lunch table, let alone a conversation.
She did remember Bea, of course. The girl had been one of her only friends in their high school days.
Go Stingrays, indeed, Fallon thought with some bitterness.
It seemed an unlikely match: Bea, stately, rich and fire-haired with a brilliant white smile and outgoing personality while Fallon was shy, reserved and barely five feet tall, her mother a drug addict.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” There was hurt in her voice but Fallon quickly shook her head in denial.
“Yes, yes, I remember you,” she replied quickly, her voice gravelly for it seemed it had been days since she’d last used it. Fallon worried that the woman would leave her there, offended by her poor manners, and for reasons she could not understand, she wanted Bea to remain, if only to share another few words.
Beatrice seemed relieved as she chuckled, those ivory fangs gleaming against the gloomy sky, almost as if she was wearing a set of false dentures, but of course that was ridiculous; they were the same age. The only difference was Beatrice Wexley oozed of money and charm while Fallon had been subjected to years of hard living under terrible conditions.
“It’s great to see you, Fallon. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve told Daniel that I missed you,” Beatrice offered softly. An unexpected pang of emotion flooded through Fallon although whether it was due to being missed or the mention of Bea’s older brother, she couldn’t be sure. It had been seven years since she’d last seen either of the Wexley siblings. Surely they had forsaken her just as everyone else had managed to do. It had never occurred to Fallon that anyone had given her a second thought.
Yet Beatrice’s face emanated kindness and sincerity and Fallon found herself lowering her guard as she stared into the woman’s piercing green eyes.
“D-do you see Daniel often?” Fallon asked, her words sounding garbled to her own ears.
Beatrice laughed merrily.
“Well, we are brother and sister,” she replied nonchalantly. “Unfortunately, we don’t have much of a choice, especially not when there’s a business to be run.”
Another jolt of confused emotion slithered through Fallon and the ginger-headed woman peered at her, concern coloring her face.
“Come inside,” Bea urged. “You’re soaked to the core and I could use a coffee.”
She didn’t wait for Fallon’s response, turning her short bob away and hurrying toward the door, her matte Louboutins clicking and splashing against the sidewalk. It was only at that moment that Fallon realized Bea had been shielding her with an umbrella. As Beatrice moved, the rain found its way back against her skin, causing another round of chills to surface on Fallon’s body.
Nervousness flickered in her gut as she remained rooted outside the hipster coffee house, unsure of what to do. If she followed Bea inside and the mean blonde was behind the counter, a scene was sure to ensue but Fallon didn’t want to offend her old friend.
If I see the blonde, I can always make a run for it…
“Fallon! Come on!”
Bea’s white teeth blinded her once more as she waved a manicured hand in gesture.
It was all the motivation Fallon needed and before she could change her mind, she walked after her long-lost friend into the bustling store, blinking at the change of atmosphere.
The lights were surprisingly bright considering the darkness rolling in from outside and they hurt Fallon’s eyes somewhat, but she dared not complain. It was a relief to escape the weather, if even for a minute or two.
Everywhere she looked, students and businesspeople lounged in chairs, glued to electronics, whether a computer or cell phone. No one seemed to notice the presence of a woman who clearly had no business being among them. For that matter, no one bothered to check out the exquisite redhead either. They were just far too absorbed in their own worlds to notice anything but the screens before them.
Bea didn’t seem to care that she did not command the attention of everyone in the room even though Fallon thought she should.
“I’m feeling soup today. And a ham and Swiss. Have you ever had the ham and Swiss here, Fallon? It’s to die for.”
Beatrice’s voice refocused her attention and Fallon gaped at her slightly, unsure of how to respond. The mere thought of eating meat, even processed, made her mouth water. It had been two days since she had managed to find a scrap of food to eat and she had forgotten how to be hungry, her tiny stomach having shrunk so dramatically.
She shifted her dark eyes away from Beatrice who stared at her expectantly, but Fallon could not bring herself to explain that she couldn’t afford a cup of water in the joint, never mind a two-course meal.
“Fine, I’ll order for you,” she announced, spinning on a heel to look at the cashier who watched Fallon with cold eyes. “Two chicken vegetable soups and two ham and Swiss on a Kaiser.”
“She can’t be in here.”
Fallon lifted her head, her eyes resting on the barista for the first time. It was the dreaded blonde.
It was unsurprising; finding food was never as easy as that. There had to be some obstacle blocking her from obtaining nourishment.
“What?” Bea asked, smiling slightly as if she didn’t understand the punchline of the joke.
“She’s not allowed in here,” the girl insisted, her already annoying voice raising. “Jake! This one’s back!”
Fallon’s face flushed with humiliation and she turned to leave before another employee appeared to escort her from the store. She didn’t bother to explain her abrupt departure to Beatrice; it should have been self-explanatory anyway.
“How many times have we told you to stop harassing the customers?” The nasal pitch followed her as Fallon bolted toward the door. “And don’t come back!”
“FALLON!”
Beatrice’s voice stopped her as if it was a gunshot ricocheting through the walls. The entire establishment seemed to quiet, all eyes turning toward them, realizing for the first time that the real show was at the counter.
Slowly, Fallon turned, her face crimson with shame.
“I—I shouldn’t be here,” she explained to Bea whose face had twisted into a vastly unfamiliar expression. She seemed… enraged.
“Come back here, please.” Despite the politeness of the sentence, it was delivered through clenched teeth, Bea’s bright green eyes fixated on the barista.
“Ma’am, I don’t know what sob story she gave you, but this woman is a menace—”
“What is your name?”
The man who was presumably Jake appeared before Fallon, his obese body seeming giant next to her tiny frame. Fallon felt her insides clench as she tried to make herself scarce. She hoped Jake wouldn’t touch her; last time he had left bruises on her that didn’t heal for weeks.
“Britta.”
“Britta, did you hear my order?” Bea asked, her tone conversational but there was a layer of ice which prickled Fallon’s flesh.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry but—”
“No, I’m sorry but,” Bea mimicked. “Do you know who I am?”
“Please, Bea,” Fallon mumbled, but the ginger only held up her hand.
“Ma’am don’t force me to call the police,” Britta chirped, her pale face as red as Fallon’s. “Don’t cause a scene.”
“What did they do?” a teenager called out and Fallon realized that half the café had their cameras rolling as the drama unfolded. She dropped her head behind tangled chestnut strands, wishing to disappear. The last thing she wanted was to be the subject of a YouTube viral clip, even if she’d done nothing wrong.
At least this time I didn’t do anything wrong.
“I implore you to call the police,” Bea replied haughtily. “I’ll wait right here.”
The girl and the woman had a staring contest for what felt like an eternity to Fallon, but it was clear to see the blonde was losing her nerve against the super-composed Beatrice.
“You can tell them that Beatrice Wexley is standing in a store she owns, being threatened by a clueless millennial,” Beatrice continued. Fallon’s chin jerked upward to read the look on the barista’s face and realized that Beatrice was speaking the truth.
“Oh my God!” Britta squeaked. “I—I am so sorry, Ms. Wexley! I had no idea—”
“Obviously,” Beatrice sighed. “Now, will you stop being a brat and ring up our order?”
“Yes, ma’am! I’m sorry!” she blubbered. “If I had known—it’s just that woman—”
“That woman,” Bea spat, “happens to be a very dear friend of mine. Apologize to her at once!”
Britta’s face turned waxen, her jaw gaping slightly as she realized that disobeying the CEO would result in her dismissal.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed, her tone barely audible.
“I didn’t hear you. Fallon, did you hear her?”
“Yes,” Fallon said quickly, averting her eyes. It wasn’t her way to stick it to the blonde, no matter how much she might deserve it.
Beatrice eyed her high school friend worriedly.
“Fine. Ring it up.”
Britta swallowed visibly, miserably adhering to Bea’s instructions as Fallon reluctantly shuffled forward to rejoin her.
“I didn’t realize you owned this chain,” Fallon murmured as they took their number and wandered toward a table near the back of the shop. She idly wondered if that was the reason that she always returned to the café, as if some sixth sense was guiding her toward a lost sense of community with one of the only people who had ever shown her kindness.
Bea chuckled dryly.
“How would you? I haven’t seen you in years.”
They sat, facing one another for a silent moment, Fallon searching for something to say to her benefactor.
“I’m sorry,” they blurted out in unison. Fallon looked at Bea in surprise.
“Why are you sorry?” Fallon asked in disbelief. “You just stuck up for me against Britta!”
Bea grimaced at the mention of the girl’s name but she shook her short hair.
“I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner, Fallon. It wasn’t for lack of trying, I assure you.”
A mirthless smile touched Fallon’s lips.
“What good what that have done?”
“Well, I suppose I would have been able offer you a job that much sooner then.”
Fallon gaped in shock.
“What?” she mumbled. “Why? I’m not qualified to do anything at all.”
Bea’s smile widened and for the first time ever, Fallon noticed a gleaming set of eyeteeth which seemed more fang than tooth.
“You sell yourself short. I remember how smart you were in high school. You can put your mind to anything.”
Fallon wasn’t sure she shared Bea’s confidence, but she didn’t want to seem petulant, lest the offer was genuine.
“Why would you do that for me?” she murmured, uncomprehendingly.
“Because that’s what friends are for,” Bea replied and for some reason, Fallon was filled with a great sense of unease.